Mari Carr's Blog, page 72

Time…

Not going to lie…as I write this I’m a wee bit depressed. My mom sent me a quote a few days ago and, well, it really got to me. It’s something John Irving (love him) said and it goes like this, “If you’re lucky enough to find the life you love, you have to find the courage to live it.” Wise words. Words I’m not really living up to. As you may or may not know, I have a day job. It was a job I used to enjoy, loved actually, but lately, it just doesn’t make me as happy as writing does.

I’ve wanted to be a writer for as long as I can remember. I have no idea if that’s true of all writers, but for me, for most of my adult life, it was always…ALWAYS…in the back of my mind that I wanted to write a book. In fact it caused me a bit of breakdown on my 34th birthday. I know I’ve told the story before, but it really did happen. I cried all day on that birthday and when my husband finally said, “What the hell is wrong with you?” I answered what was making me so sad. I hadn’t written my book. I’d gotten married, found a job, had children, bought a house, done a million other things, but the one thing that hovered and tormented me was the idea that I hadn’t written that DAMN BOOK.

So…my clever hubby told me to write it. And, by God, I did. I’ve been writing practically every day for nearly a decade now (yes, I’m THAT old). The desire to be a writer hasn’t eased up, hasn’t gone away. If anything, it’s stronger today than it’s ever been. But whenI look at that quote, I realize…I’m not being courageous. My life hasn’t changed from my 34th birthday. I’m still working the day job, raising the kids, taking care of the same house. I’m still doing those million things every other working mother does. Yes, I’m writing and, maybe, I’m getting close to that point where I can actually believe I AM a writer, but…I haven’t quite made the leap yet. Haven’t found the courage to fully live that life.

Tonight that’s bringing me down. I’m a list-maker. Anyone else out there live and die by their to-do lists? I learned the habit from my mother and it’s deeply engrained. I’ve always had a writing to-do list and I work my ass off consistently to hit the self-appointed deadlines, to write the stories so that I can do that all-powerful and most magical of all actions…mark something OFF my list. Usually making the list energizes me, inspires me, gets me moving. Tonight…I realized the list is too long, too ambitious and, given my real life time-constraints, too unrealistic. And it’s killing me. Because I WANT to do all the things on that list. Desperately.

Cue the *Veruca from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory voice*

I WANT to write series books with my girlfriends, Lexxie, Jayne and Lila. I WANT to write a book for Entangled Publishing’s Brazen line. I WANT to try my hand at self-publishing. I WANT to write the other 5 books in the Second Chances series for Samhain and I WANT to write the erotic westerns for Ellora’s Cave. I WANT to do it all. And I WANT IT NOW! But…time won’t let me. I don’t have enough of it.

And the worst part about this blog post is that it won’t have a happy ending. I will wake up tomorrow when that alarm goes off at 5:45 a.m. and I will get ready and go to work. I’ll do my job. I’ll come home to a mountain of laundry and dinner to make and a house to clean.

But I’ll also sit down at my computer and put words on the page because that’s the life I love. And because I still have the hope that *one day* I’ll find that courage.

Where in the world…

…is Mari Carr? Fall is upon us and, for me, that means conferences! At the end of Sept, I’ll be heading north to Pittsburgh and then, two weeks after that, I’m pointing my car west to Ohio.

Sept. 28-30 – Lora Leigh’s RAW (Reader-Author Weekend) is taking place in Pittsburgh, PA this year. I will be attending the entire event and I would love the opportunity to meet you. If you can’t attend the conference and live in the area, there will be a public book signing on Sunday, Sept. 30 from 1-2 p.m. at the DoubleTree by Hilton Pittsburgh – Green Tree, 500 Mansfield Avenue, Pittsburgh, PA 15205. Details can be found here.

Oct. 11-15 – Ellora’s Cave Romanticon is happening in Canton, Ohio and HOLY HELL, this may be one of the wildest and most fun conferences out there! Check your inhibitions at the door and come experience things you never thought you’d do. Learn a few burlesque dance steps, spend an evening as a zombie or strike a sexy pose with one of the cavemen. Can’t come for the whole weekend? That’s okay. There’s a public book signing on Sunday, Oct. 14 from 12-4 p.m. at the McKinley Grand Hotel, 320 Market Ave. South, Canton, Ohio. More details can be found here.

If you live near either of these locations, I hope you’ll consider stopping by to say hi!

Monday Mayhem

It’s the beginning of another work week. While the day job is keeping me hopping, I’m also hard at work trying to hit deadlines and finish up edits on other books. Thought I’d take a minute to give you a quick rundown of my fall writing schedule.

Releases

Bachelor’s Bait (Cocktales, book 3) will come out in early November. Edits are complete and I really enjoyed revisiting Books and Brew. In this story, Sophie, the socialite of the group, enters into a love/hate/lust relationship with free aid lawyer, Marc Garrett. Sparks are flying in Portland in this book and I don’t mean just the 4th of July fireworks.

Fix You (Second Chances, book 1) releases Dec. 11. I cannot tell a lie. I haven’t looked forward to the release of book one in a new series this much since Come Monday came out. I think it’s partly because I have the six stories in the Second Chances so firmly ensconced in my brain! I’m dying to write them all. I also think it’s because the lives of these women resonate so closely to my own experiences and those of my dear friends. While the women in the stories are fiction, there are very real women in my life who’ve inspired the characters.

Edits

Winter’s Thaw (Compass Girls, book 1). That’s right. You read that correctly. Jayne Rylon and I have completed book one in the first story in our new Compass series. Winter’s Thaw will take you back to Compton Pass to meet the next generation. Silas, Seth, Sam and Sawyer all had daughters and these girls are as spirited and feisty as their fathers! Right now, we’re waiting for our editor to send us edits. The story will release in Feb. 2013 and I hope to have a cover to share in the next few days. I can tell you right now–it’s freaking gorgeous!

Writing

Misplaced Lessons and Misplaced Hands (Foreign Affairs, book 3 and 4). Lexxie Couper and I are typing as fast as our fingers will fly. Both of us have been looking forward to diving back into Farpoint Creek and now that we’re there, we’re having a blast. The next two installments in the Foreign Affairs series promise to be even hotter than the first two! Anyone up for a bit of BDSM? Or how about a menage with two sexy-as-sin jackaroos?

Screaming Orgasm (Cocktales, book 4). This will be the final book in the Cocktales series as Jayne finds her true love in non other than, Books and Brew regular, Elias. This last story will be a bit more serious and sexy than the first. I’ve been looking forward to telling Elias’ story since Party Naked!

Full Moon (Second Chances, book 2). This book revolves around Josie, one of the wilder women living on Loser’s Lane. Having escaped a miserable marriage, Josie is ready to stretch her sexual wings and fly. To achieve her goals, she’s made a sex bucket list and she plans to experience all of them. When the full moon emerges, Josie howls.

AND…Lila Dubois and I have been playing around with an idea for a super sexy series we’d like to co-write. More details about that later.

A peaceful, easy Sunday

For the first time in a long time, I’m feeling somewhat relaxed and maybe even a little caught up. My in-laws arrive at the beginning of every August for a month-long visit. During this time, my husband basically loses his mind in his attempts to keep everyone entertained and ON THE MOVE! Luckily, my MIL, SIL and I are used to this, so we start bulking up on vitamins and working out in July in an effort to build up our stamina. LOL. This year was no exception. And while the month was one continual string of events and nonstop motion, it was probably one of the best summers of my life.

We traveled to Myrtle Beach and rented a house for a week with several friends. The weather, the food, the house and the company were all perfect. I’ve never spent a more relaxing or fun week at the beach and I was very sad to see that week end. Of course, the week at the beach wasn’t enough for my hubby. He decided since we were *that* close (aka 8 hours!) we should take another week and travel on to Orlando. I didn’t fight this decision since seeing Harry Potter World in Universal was #1 on my bucket list. Talk about an amazing place. I teared up a bit when I saw Hogsmeade village and the Hogwarts castle. So, so, so much fun. And that ride in the castle??? Holy crap! I’ve NEVER been on a ride like that in my life! Just incredible! It honestly felt like I was flying on a broom over Hogwarts. So much fun.

In addition to Universal, we went to Discovery Cove. I would like to say that I anticipated Harry Potter World being the highlight of my trip. I was sorely mistaken. I’d never heard of Discovery Cove, but my little niece had and #1 on her bucket list was to swim with dolphins. If you’re planning a trip to Orlando, GO TO DISCOVERY COVE. OMG–that place is heaven on earth. Google it. Check it out. It was gorgeous and I’ve never felt so pampered and relaxed and happy in all my life. There were 8 of us there that day from my 6 year old nephew to my 68 year old mother-in-law with just about every age range in between. Every single one of us agreed that was the best day of the vacation and all of us want to go back again.

After our two-week tour of the Southeast, we returned home to more fun and mayhem and…alas…work. Another school year has begun, so I’m back in the trenches. We’re three weeks in and I still come home every day feeling like I’ve been hit by a bus. And…in addition to the EDJ, I have a few writing deadlines slowly, but surely creeping up on me. But…that’s a post for another day…like tomorrow. For now, I just want to wish everyone a peaceful, easy Sunday. Take care!

Saturday Snippet

How about a holiday??? Hmmm…let’s see…Thanksgiving should do.

Snippet:

Dylan watched the two-hundred-foot Scooby-Doo float past him and thought, Okay, Sullivan, you really aren’t in Kansas anymore.

He couldn’t stop shaking his head, even as his face ached from smiling. The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade was singularly the most surreal, amazing, bizarre, joyful thing he’d ever experienced. There wasn’t anything like it in Australia. Not even close. Every time he thought he’d wrapped his brain around what he was seeing, around the corner would float another gigantic cartoon character, dragging twenty-odd struggling people underneath it at the end of ropes thick enough to hog-tie a bull, and his brain would go, nope. This can’t be real.

He’d never laughed so much.

Which was pretty bloody amazing, given the fact the last two days had been a tormenting hell. An enjoyable, euphoric, completely fucked-up-wrong tormenting hell.

After he’d heard Annie’s voice on the answering machine, he’d been hit by guilt. Guilt so hot and cutting he hadn’t slept a minute. Monet’s sofa—which was also a fold-away bed—had turned into a torture device, the place where he tossed and turned as he replayed Annie’s words over and over again in his head.

I hope Dylan is okay. I really need to talk to him. There’s something I need to… I really need to talk to him.

His first response had been to call Farpoint straight away. But when he had, no one answered. If he didn’t know better, he’d suspect there was a conspiracy afoot. Of course, he did know better. He was the get-your-hands-dirty, sweat-your-arse-off brother when it came to running Farpoint. Hunter was the don’t-fuck-with-me-bankers, let’s-talk-business brother. With Dylan on the other side of the world, Hunter would be tackling both their jobs.

That would explain why he never answered the damn phone, but what about their mum? Where was she? Hazel wasn’t just the person who made sure he and Hunter were eating right, she was the matriarch who made sure they were running the cattle station the way it should be run. Why the hell wasn’t she answering the phone?

He didn’t have an answer for that. Nor did he have an answer for his situation. The call from Annie had tied him in knots and made him feel like shit and it had only gotten worse the next morning.

He’d looked at Monet as she’d walked from her bedroom, his chest tightening, his morning hard-on jerking with painful want at the sight of her, and said, “We have to talk about—”

And Monet had shaken her head and replied, “We have to start from scratch.” Then she’d crossed the room to where he was perched on the edge of the sofa, his bloody erection tenting the crotch of his boxers, his heart thumping fast in his chest, and held out her hand and said, “Hello, Dylan. I’m Annie’s friend, Monet. It’s nice to meet you. Want me to show you the city while we wait for your luggage to turn up?”

It had been an unspoken message—we messed up.

He’d shaken her hand, said, “G’day. That would be great,” and fifteen minutes later they were out the door, heading forCentral Park.

The next two days had passed just like that. Two acquaintances connected by an absent friend, one showing the other a city she knew and loved, the other enjoying every bloody minute of it, even as his gut churned and his heart ached and his mind told him over and over again he could do this forever, with this woman. Only this woman.

Only Monet.

Two days of enjoyable, euphoric, completely fucked-up tormenting hell. Three sleepless nights saddled with guilt, lust, desire and, ultimately, anger. Angry that he’d let himself fall for Monet. Angry that twice when he’d tried to call Farpoint, he’d turned into a chicken-shit gutless wonder and killed the connection before he could hear a voice. Because if he spoke to Annie and she said she was missing him, that she wanted him to come to her inAustralia, he wouldn’t be able to say “okay”.

Not when he wanted to be with Monet.

And now here he was, watching a collection of inflated cartoon characters the size of Farpoint’s secondary storage shed, laughing and smiling and enjoying himself so much with Monet that every grin she gave him pierced his heart, every whiff of her scent drove him mad and every minute by her side became the most wonderful, exquisite torment of his life.

“Oh look.” Monet turned to face him, her smile wide, her cheeks flushed from the cold air, her eyes hidden by the same large black sunglasses she’d been wearing when he’d first met her. “It’s SpongeBob.”

Dylan threw a glance at the bizarre, massive yellow rectangle with crazy eyes, dressed like a nerdy schoolboy. “Who’s SpongeBob?”

Monet burst out laughing, her hands touching his chest, giving him a little shove. He wished she hadn’t. It made his heart thump bloody hard in his chest and his groin tighten. Two days he’d been denied kisses, touches. Denied holding her, tasting her sweet sex on his tongue. That simple contact of her gloved hands on his shirted chest was like a red-hot branding iron searing his flesh.

“You don’t have SpongeBob Down Under? Oh my God, you poor things.”

Dylan shrugged. “We don’t have SpongeBob on Farpoint. Who knows about the rest ofAustralia.”

“When we get back home I’m introducing you to SpongeBob. There’s bound to be an episode playing on Nick. You’ll love him. Trust me.”

Prickling heat razed over the back of Dylan’s neck. Monet’s statement, despite its innocence, unsettled him. Home. Love. Trust. All three things he couldn’t stop thinking about when it came to her.

Misplaced Cowboy is available at Ellora’s Cave, Amazon, and Barnes and Noble.

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Moonlight Mirage

When Sami gets rolling, there is NO stopping this gal! She’s back with another great release, Moonlight Mirage. It’s book 3 in the Bandicoot Cove: The Wedding series I’ve been featuring this week. You gotta love series books with NO wait in between releases! Check this one out!

Moonlight Mirage

A new lover, an old flame, sultry moonlit nights. Why let inhibitions stand in the way?

Bandicoot Cove: The Wedding, Book 3

Two years ago, Hayley Bryant left Australia on a round-the-world odyssey that changed her life, and her attitude. After that, coming face to face with the man whose rejection sent her packing shouldn’t affect her at all, right?

Except there’s one thing that hasn’t changed—her former boss Mitchell Wood makes her burn as hot as ever. The difference is, Hayley’s now a grown woman who knows how to get what she wants, and she wants Mitch. Trouble is, she hasn’t come to her friend’s wedding alone. Her very sexy friend with benefits, Ty Butler, might pose a problem.

Business was always Mitch’s first love…at least until he hired his little sister’s friend as an intern. Pushing her away was the right thing to do, but now his sister’s wedding has Hayley re-entering his life—and the empty place in his heart. Soon he’s acting less like the consummate workaholic and more like a man crazy in love. But Hayley’s “plus one” is an unexpected obstacle.

Fortunately, Mitch has never been one to shy away from a little competition…

Product Warnings

Bilby Island’s sensual spell strikes again. Book contains hot lovin’ made in beautiful tropical surrounds, some exhibitionism, voyeurism and bondage. Best read with a margarita in hand and the fan switched to high.

EXCERPT:

Something in Mitch’s gut clenched and the muscles around his heart squeezed tight. There goes walking and talking and generally acting like I have it all together. “Hales? Hayley Bryant?”

“Yes, Hayley Bryant, you doofus. Little Hayley, the girl I begged you to hire when she finished her degree so she could get some business experience.” Mack squinted at him. “She worked for you for over a year, remember?”

Remember he did, in vivid detail. That year wasn’t one Mitch had ever managed to forget, no matter how hard he’d tried over the past twenty-two months. Hayley Bryant. The sickening sense of loss that always swirled in his stomach at the thought of her made the strong rum-based cocktail nearly come back up the way it went down.

“She arrived just this afternoon, after you,” Mack went on, apparently unaware that Mitch’s throat had closed over, preventing him from contributing to the conversation. “She looksamazing. So different you’ll hardly recognize her.”

A picture of bouncy pale blonde curls framing a cherubic face and green eyes that sparkled with intelligence flashed in Mitch’s mind. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of Hayley looking in any way different.

“She’s back for a visit?” he finally managed to choke out. His voice sounded raspy, so he took a swig of the drink he’d forgotten he didn’t like.

“For good, I think.” For good. Mitch’s heart started to palpitate. “It’ll be great to have her on home soil. I always worried a little about her traveling the world on her own—force of habit to worry about Hales, I suppose. I still remember her as the shy twelve-year-old I mentored through her first year of high school when I was a senior. There is one thing I will miss though, and that’s her postcards.”

Mitch had never received a postcard. Not one in twenty-two months—but who was counting? She sent some to Mitch’s headquarters in the Gold Coast because she’d made several friends there. The mementos came from America, Canada, Europe and Southeast Asia, but none had ever been addressed to him personally.

Not that he expected any, after what happened.

Memories raced through his mind before he could prepare for the effect they’d have on his body or his conscience. A sultry December night, a late meeting, boxes of Chinese takeaway laid out next to blueprints, and Hayley. Oh God, Hayley. Full of enthusiasm to impress the boss, and him behaving like every bad cliché about company CEOs and their cute, eager-to-please interns.

In his pocket, the electronic beep of Mitch’s phone sounded, shattering his dark thoughts and drawing a scowl from Mack. “Don’t. You. Dare. No business. Give me the phone.”

Mitch froze with his hand halfway to his pocket. “You’ve got to be joking, Mack.”

Brother and sister stared each other down, neither willing to back off. Mitch was reminded of Mack’s fearlessness, conditioned through years of fending off the teasing delivered by six brothers. She wouldn’t hesitate to tackle him just as though they were in their parents’ backyard playing football instead of at a swanky resort.

Mitch’s competitive streak reared. He might be five years his sister’s senior, but he wasn’t quite over the hill yet. No way can she catch me.

Mitch feinted left, then darted to the right. Mack wasn’t fooled, nor was she on her own in this battle. She called to someone behind Mitch and a moment later Mitch’s shoulder connected with something hard, and two arms banded his to his sides.

“Aidan.” No one else Mitch knew had arms the size and firmness of tree trunks. “Let me go.”

Mack pointed a finger at her fiancé. “Don’t.”

Mitch kept himself fit, but an insanely strong fireman who’d do anything for the woman he loved he could not match on physical terms. So he started doing what he did best—negotiating. “Aidan, think about what you’re doing. I’m about to become your brother-in-law.”

“Thinking tends to go out the window where your sister’s concerned,” Aidan drawled. “What exactly am I supposed to do with him, Mack?”

“Take the phone out of his pocket.”

“I am not putting my hand in your brother’s pocket. You do it.”

“Eww. I’m not putting my hand in there either, certainly not while it’s vibrating.” Mack glared at Mitch. “Take the phone out and give it to me.”

Mitch grinned. “In your dreams.”

“Fine,” Mack huffed. “I’ll get backup.”

Scanning the nearby crowd, Mack waved at someone and gestured for them to come over.

“Mack, this is ridiculous. It might not even be the office calling.”

“Sure, and you wouldn’t have that thing surgically attached to your body if you had the chance. They never leave you alone, Mitch.”

“That’s because I’m the boss.”

“What seems to be the problem?”

Mitch’s heart, which had already accelerated during the matchup against his sister and Aidan, moved into triple time. He knew that voice. It was a little richer than the last time he’d heard it, with a sardonic lilt that hadn’t been there before. But the sound of Hayley Bryant’s honeyed tones had haunted his sleep enough nights that he would have recognized them anywhere. With an unsettling mixture of reluctance and bone-deep anticipation, Mitch turned his head.

What he saw stopped his heart altogether.

She’d let her golden hair grow long, so long the ends curled over the very tips of her breasts, which looked absolutely dynamite in a low-cut green dress that perfectly matched the emerald sparkle of her eyes. Wedge heels made her slender frame appear taller than what Mitch knew was only five-foot-four. Hayley’s head barely reached his collarbones. He remembered because she’d opened his shirt and placed a kiss right there that night almost two years ago, before she’d released every other button on the garment and…

Mitch slammed his mind down on that memory because it made his cock twitch inside his pants. Aroused was not a state he wanted to find himself in with a six-foot-plus fireman plastered to his back. It would be better if Hayley Bryant got out of his sight right now so Mack wouldn’t guess the impact her friend had on him.

But right now, drinking in the long-missed sight of her, Mitch couldn’t have asked Hayley to walk away even if he still possessed the power of speech. He felt as though some maniacal hand had curled punishing fingers around his heart and squeezed. Love was not only a damned inconvenient emotion, it was an absolute killer. Oh, Hayley, how did I let you walk away from me? Why did you stay away so long?

Mitch’s heart raced so fast when he heard his sister’s next words, he thought he might suffer an infarction.

“Hales, I need you to frisk my brother.”

Saturday Snippets

Today’s theme is Talk Talk. I must admit writing dialogue is one of my favorite things, especially when humor is involved. I love writing the Wild Irish series because of the family interactions.

Snippet:

“You look great. Stop fidgeting.”

“I look like you,” Keira said, tugging on the collar of the gypsy-style shirt she’d borrowed from Teagan. Her shift had run longer than she’d hoped—damn tourist season—and she hadn’t had time to go shopping for anything new to wear. Her entire wardrobe consisted of practical pants, jeans and basic tops, so she’d been forced to borrow a skirt and blouse from Teagan. Problem was, her taste and her sister’s were as dissimilar as salt and sugar.

“You look great,” Teagan reassured again.

Keira glanced down at the wildly colored broomstick skirt and bright purple blouse and considered calling Will to cancel.

“Come on,” Teagan said, dragging her away from the mirror. “Let’s go wait downstairs in the pub. I can’t wait to meet this guy.”

“You act like no one ever asks me out.”

“Oh, I know guys ask you out, but you never say yes. I’ve gotta see the one who snagged you,” Teagan teased.

She let her younger sister pull her down the stairs and over to the bar. She sighed when she discovered Ewan and Pop helping Tristan mix drinks and Sean bussing the tables at the pub. Teagan was right. She needed to start dating more. Her family was acting like this was frigging prom night.

“I thought you were waiting tables on Sunday’s Side,” she said to her father and Ewan.

“And miss meeting this guy? Not likely. Joyce and Regina have things under control for now,” Ewan replied.

Keira bit back a growl of frustration. “You can’t all be standing here like the Spanish Inquisition when he shows up. Just once, do you think you guys could try not to embarrass me?”

Tristan wiped up the counter with an evil grin and she knew he was loving that everyone had gathered round. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with your family meeting the guy who’s taking you out. Isn’t that how it was done in the old days, Pop?”

Keira narrowed her eyes, furious with Tris for pulling Pop into this humiliating scene as well. Pop loved to harp on the old ways of doing things and Tristan’s pointed question would just get her father fired up.

“It was customary for a man to meet the father. This young man of yours should want to meet me, Keira. It’s only polite, after all. Doesn’t he have any manners?”

“He’s a perfect gentleman, Pop, but I’m twenty-seven. Doesn’t that seem a little old for…” She gestured to all of her siblings gathered around.

“Did I miss him yet?” Riley asked, rushing out of the kitchen. “Freaking tourists and their special orders. Is he here?”

Keira sighed and looked at Tristan. “Couldn’t get Killian home from Iraq?”

“Not on such short notice,” her brother joked, enjoying her discomfiture.

“This is gonna suck,” she murmured. “Maybe I’ll just wait outside for him.”

“We won’t embarrass you, Keira. Promise.” Sean walked over and grabbed her hand. “We just want to get a look at the guy who was smart enough to ask you out.”

Keira grinned and pressed a quick kiss on her baby brother’s forehead. “Thanks, squirt.”

“Keira?”

She took a deep breath and turned. Will was standing behind her and she tried to ignore that the room had gone suspiciously quiet. There were a lot of regulars drinking at the bar and no doubt Tris had spread the word about his sister having a date. More than a few interested faces turned in their direction.

“Hi, Will.”

She saw him glance at her outfit and for a moment, she sensed his surprise. Luckily he recovered quickly. “You look beautiful.”

He took her hand as she turned back toward the bar. “Um, I’d like you to meet my family.” During his arrival, the men had joined together to form a united front behind the counter. “This is my father, Patrick. Pop, this is William Wallace.”

Pop came around the bar and took Will’s hand in a firm, quick handshake. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Collins,” Will said genially.

“And you. Scottish?”

Will shook his head. “Actually no. My father’s side was originally Polish, until Ellis Island Americanized them.”

“Polish, eh?” Pop asked.

“Of course, when you throw in my mother’s German ancestry, I think it’s safe to say I’m a mutt.”

Pop laughed and slapped Will on the shoulder. “Well, better a mutt than a Scotsman.”

“Pop,” Keira warned, trying to steer the conversation back to safer waters.

“These are my brothers,” she said, hoping to get this nightmare beginning of a date over with. “You know Tristan. Standing next to him is Ewan and that handsome one on the end is my baby brother Sean.”

Will shook all three men’s hands.

“And these are my sisters, Teagan and Riley.”

“I see beauty runs in the family,” he said as he smiled at her sisters. Both of them nodded appreciatively and Riley gave her a thumbs-up and mouthed he’s hot when Will turned back toward her father.

“I see you’re a Ravens fan,” Will said, pointing to the endless array of football knickknacks gathered behind the bar.

“Is there any other team worth rooting for?” Pop asked.

Will smiled devilishly and Keira rolled her eyes. “Oh crap, you like football?” she muttered, suspecting Will’s next words could easily be his last.

“Didn’t I mention I’m originally from Pittsburgh? My parents still live there. Kind of hard to grow up in that city and not be bitten by the bug.”

Pop’s eyes narrowed. “I should warn you now, William. We don’t speak the name of that other team in here.”

“Well now, that seems mighty unsporting of you, Mr. Collins. I mean, after all, Super Bowl champions deserve some respect. You gotta admit that record—”

“Luck. It was all dumb luck,” Pop insisted.

“Four Super Bowl wins in the last decade is luck?” Will asked.

“Do you hear this?” Pop asked, gesturing at the men seated at the bar, ready to jump into his favorite pastime—arguing about sports.

“Uh, Pop,” Keira said quickly. “Will and I really need to get going. I’ll let you two bash heads about football another time.”

Will smiled and placed an arm around her shoulder. She tried not to show how much his simple, proprietary touch affected her.

“I’ll take good care of her, Mr. Collins.”

“Ach, what’s with this ‘Mr. Collins’ stuff? We’re in the pub. In the pub, I’m Pat.”

“It was nice to meet you, Pat, in spite of your misguided loyalty to the Ravens.”

Come Monday is available at Ellora’s Cave, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, All Romance Ebooks, and Sony.

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Five for Friday

How about a cowboy story? Spitfire is the first story in my Cowboy Quickies trilogy.

Chapter One

“You promised, Jeb.”

“Aw Liv, you can’t hold me to that. I was drunk and—”

“Get the hell out, you asshole, and don’t come back! I’m tired of your fucking games.”

Rem grimaced as he stood on the front porch of his ranch house, the sounds of yelling coming through the screen door.

Some homecoming.

He saw Liv and Jeb going at it like gangbusters in the foyer. No doubt they’d failed to hear his truck pull up thanks to the battle they were waging. He stepped to the side so they couldn’t see him, trying to figure out what the hell they were arguing about.

“Goddammit, Liv,” Jeb shouted. “Can’t you at least hear me out?”

“Hear you out?” Liv moved forward and shoved her older brother. Rem fought back a grin as he caught sight of his little spitfire. She was a foot shorter than he and Jeb and as she moved, he was momentarily struck dumb by the sight of her firm, full breasts in the too-tight blouse she was wearing.

Christ, was she wearing a bra? How the woman could make blue jeans and simple shirts sexy as hell, he’d never know.

Jeb threw his arms up to defend himself as Rem watched silently. Her slight frame didn’t stop her from putting up one hell of a fight when they pissed her off. She may be small, but she was fierce. “Why the hell should I listen to you, Mr. Shit for Brains, when you never listen to me?”

Scowling at her coarse language, Rem reached for the door only to have it swing open roughly, nearly hitting him in the process.

“Fuck,” Liv said, jumping back. She clearly hadn’t seen him standing there and he’d startled her.

“We’re gonna have to have a long talk about this filthy language of yours, spitfire,” Rem said. “Don’t recall you having such a gutter mouth when my dad was around. Hope you don’t think I won’t hold you to the same expectations as my old man.”

Her tanned face—red with anger—darkened even further at his threat, and he was overwhelmed with the desire to see that same lovely flush covering other parts of her body. He shifted slightly to adjust his jeans, hiding the hard-on she’d produced just by looking at him with those beautiful doe eyes.

Then those same eyes narrowed and Rem shook his head. Damn girl had never practiced one ounce of self-preservation, and as she’d matured into a woman, it seemed that fact hadn’t changed.

“You home to stay?” she asked angrily.

He nodded solemnly and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for her anger to turn on him. She wouldn’t be wrong to want to throw a bit of that fury his way. He’d stayed away too damn long and he wasn’t sure this homecoming would be well received.

“Hey, Rem,” Jeb said from behind the safety of the screen door. “We weren’t expecting you. You really coming back for good?”

Rem muttered a soft “yes” in response but his eyes never drifted from Liv’s face. He’d worried about her reaction to his return for weeks.

“’Bout time,” was all she said as she turned back to her brother. “I meant what I said, Jeb. You run off to that rodeo again and you can just stay away. I won’t spend one more minute of my life worryin’ about you. I’m done with that.”

“Dammit, Liv. Don’t leave it like that,” Jeb said, stepping out onto the porch.

Liv held up her hand to ward off the rest of his words before turning and walking away. She climbed into her pickup truck and pealed the tires as she drove off. Rem fought back the ingrained instinct that told him to go after her. She shouldn’t be driving when she was so angry but he knew chasing her down would only make her angrier.

“You’re going back to the circuit?” Rem asked as he turned to face the man who’d been more like a brother than a best friend for most of his life.

Jeb shrugged wearily.

“How the hell did you expect her to react, Jeb?” he asked. “She worries about you. Bull riders don’t exactly have long life expectancies.”

Jeb walked over to one of the rocking chairs and Rem moved to stand before him, leaning against the railing. “I knew she’d be pissed but dammit, Rem, I can’t give the rodeo up.”

Rem nodded. His friend had been bitten by the rodeo bug at eighteen and Rem knew no force on earth, short of death, would stop him from riding the circuit. Rem had taken off with Jeb after their high school graduation to try his hand at the rodeo as well, but three years of dust, bruises and battered pride had been more than enough for him. He’d quit, returning home for one brief summer before enlisting with the Marines.

Rem rubbed his eyes and tried to ward off the headache growing. “You were gonna leave her alone to run the ranch?” he asked, annoyed at the thought of Jeb leaving Liv on her own.

“Who the hell do you think’s been runnin’ it these last few months since Joe passed? I can’t stay here, Rem. I’ve been living like a zombie. Liv tells me what to do and I do it. I’m not a rancher.”

Rem had believed the same thing when he’d taken off to join the Marines. He thought he’d needed excitement and adventure to give his life meaning, a purpose. He’d thought a career in the military would make his father proud.

So much for that theory .

His old man was gone and their decade-long estrangement would remain an eternal one. He pushed back the regret and guilt that snuck in and attacked his insides when he least expected it. He’d come home to find peace of mind and a quiet life.

Oh Christ, who was he fooling? He’d come home for Liv.

He’d joined the rodeo at eighteen, only to come home at twenty-one to discover the girl next door had grown up. At seventeen, Liv was wild and reckless and so beautiful she made his gut ache. His father had seen the sparks flying between his son and his foster daughter and told him to get the hell out. He’d gotten out and limited his returns to only short visits for nearly a decade.

“I gotta go,” Jeb said quietly.

“So go,” Rem said. “You don’t need my permission.”

Jeb closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the chair. “I didn’t mean to upset her, Rem. You and Liv are the only family I’ve got.”

Jeb and Liv’s parents had owned the ranch next to the Bradley spread. When Mr. and Mrs. Carter were killed in a car accident, leaving their two children orphaned, Rem’s dad had stepped up and taken them in, raising them as his own. Jeb had been seventeen at the time, Liv only thirteen.

“Liv has a temper like a spark in a powder keg. You know that. Once she’s had some time to calm down, she’ll come around.” Even as he spoke the words, Rem wondered at the veracity of them. He’d never seen Liv so angry, so desolate.

Rem’s father, Joe, had died of a massive heart attack six months earlier. He’d come home briefly for the funeral before promptly returning to his unit. His father’s death had cut deeply and left him with a mountain of regret but he was home now, ready to take up the reins of his inheritance and to claim the girl he’d left behind.

“You really quit the Marines? For good?” Jeb asked.

Rem nodded.

“So now you wanna be a rancher?” his friend asked with disbelief. It wasn’t so long ago they’d both turned tail and run away from this place as fast and as far as their legs would carry them.

“Now I want to be a man my father could be proud of,” he said softly.

“Shit, you already were,” Jeb replied.

Rem shrugged and changed the subject. “When are you leaving?”

Jeb grinned guiltily. “Right now. I was hoping to sneak out while Liv was working in the barn. She caught me.”

Rem shook his head, grinning. “Christ. No wonder she was pissed.”

“I left her a note,” Jeb said defensively before laughing. “That woman is mean as a rattler when riled. No way in hell I was gonna volunteer for her abuse. I figured I had a fifty-fifty chance of making a clean getaway.”

“Yeah, well, I hope you have better luck on the circuit.”

“Amen, brother,” Jeb said, rising. “Guess I’ll shove off. Don’t wanna take a chance on her coming back before I leave. I don’t think I’m up for round two. You’ll look after her, won’t you, Rem?”

Rem knew his friend wouldn’t ask for such a favor if he knew the impure thoughts he’d been having with regards to Liv. He’d managed to fight back his attraction to her for years, keeping his distance from her during his short visits home, but seeing her at his father’s funeral had uncovered and kick-started a bunch of latent feelings he hadn’t realized were still there.

“I’ll take care of her,” he said quietly, praying he would be able to follow through on that promise. He had quite a bit of making up to do in regards to Liv Carter and, if her response to his return was any indication, she didn’t intend to make things easy on him.

Spitfire is available at Ellora’s Cave, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Sony and All Romance Ebooks.

Want five more first pages? Check out these sites!

Jambrea Jo Jones

Bianca D’Arc

Lila Dubois

Rhian Cahill

Lexxie Couper

Sunset Heat

My beloved writing partner, Lexxie Couper, is at it again! She has a new release out called Sunset Heat. It’s part of the smokin’ hot Bandicoot Cove: The Wedding series. If y’all haven’t picked these books up…what are you waiting for?

Sunset Heat

A photographer, a firefighter, a rake. Let the debauchery begin!

Bandicoot Cove: The Wedding, Book 2

When Kennedy bolted after a mind-blowing one-night stand with a sexy Australian firefighter, she never expected to be standing in front of him four months later on a tropical island resort. Naked, thanks to her phobia of butterflies.

Trouble is, she’s equally turned on by Luke and his hunky British cousin. Not exactly how she’d intended to spend her first day as Bandicoot Cove’s official photographer.

Luke never planned on falling for the feisty, flirty American he met at a New York bar. Now that he’s face to face with her again, he has two questions. Why did she run? And why can’t he stop thinking about sharing the woman of his dreams with his cousin?

Addison invited himself along on his cousin’s trip for a weekend of no-strings-attached sex. But he wants to get to know Kennedy on all levels. Seriously, this is no way for a rake to behave. And how the hell is he going to tell his cousin he’s interested in the very woman Luke can’t get out of his mind?

Product Warnings

The setting sun isn’t the only thing heating up Bandicoot Cove, because when the word “threesome” gets thrown into the mix, it’s seduction on a global scale. (Note: No butterflies were scorched during scenes of burning passion.)

EXCERPT:

Kennedy Collins hated butterflies. She knew it was a stupid, ridiculous phobia, but there it was all the same. Lepidopterophobia. The fear of butterflies and moths. Not spiders or snakes or sharks or axe-wielding psychopaths, but butterflies. Freaking flittery-fluttery little winged things no one in their right mind would be scared of. Kennedy was scared of them, though. Absolutely petrified of them. And Australian butterflies were worse. Who knew if they were as deadly and dangerous as the rest of the godforsaken wildlife in the country? Which meant she ran like a demon was on her tail when the multicolored little flittery-fluttery winged thing had flittered and fluttered its malevolent way into her suite through the open patio door just as she was about to go have a shower.

Ran like the petrified lunatic she was, leaving her recently worn yoga clothes on the floor behind her, her heart racing, her mouth dry, her pulse pounding. Fled her suite like a wimp, away from the unpredictable menacing butterfly, any hope of rational thought destroyed by unhinged terror.

Unhinged terror that now saw her standing—naked as the day she was born—outside her suite. Outside her suite, for Pete’s sake. Outside her suite naked and in the direct path of two tall, stunned men. Well, one stunned man and one grinning…

Kennedy’s flustered thoughts screamed to a halt. God save her, the stunned man was Luke Beasley.

Her heart—already smashing into her throat with abject terror—smashed some more. “Luke!” she burst out, throwing herself into the massive Australian’s arms. It didn’t matter that she’d snuck out of the guy’s hotel room four months ago after a night of wild sex and hadn’t spoken to him since. It didn’t matter that he probably didn’t remember her, due to the copious number of drinks they’d consumed in the New York bar in which they’d met. It didn’t matter, because there was a goddamn butterfly in her room, a goddamn butterfly, and he was a firefighter, and firefighters saved people, and she needed saving, and he was going to save her, and she was—

Two strong hands wrapped around her upper arms, and Kennedy yelped. Her heart continued its wrecking-ball attitude in her throat and she plastered herself against Luke’s hard body. The butterfly? What if the butterfly—

“Kennedy?”

“You know her, convict?”

Another voice joined Luke’s rumble, deep and cut with a crisp British accent, but Kennedy didn’t care. “Luke,” she all but cried, “there’s a…oh God, help me there’s a…” An image of the butterfly flashed through her mind, malicious and demonic and tiny and colorful, and her throat seized up. She clung to the man she’d had the most wicked one-night stand with four months ago, her mouth working but nothing coming out of it.

Serious brown eyes gazed down at her. The hands on her arms tightened. “Jesus, Kennedy, you look terrified. What’s going on?”

She tried to tell him. Tried to vocalize the words, but at the mere thought of the winged creature in her suite her belly knotted, her tongue thickened, and all she could do was shake her head and cling to him.

“Is there someone in your room?” Luke’s expression turned dark. Dangerous. “Did someone attack—” His fingers dug into her arms with brutal pressure for a split second and then he was letting her go, spinning away to barge into her suite.

Followed immediately by the other man.

Kennedy staggered back a step. Her blood roared in her ears. A rational part of her mind knew they thought she’d been attacked by a person. That they’d stormed into her suite looking for a rapist. Instead they would find a butterfly and—

Butterfly.

Ice-cold terror sank into her belly, and she staggered back another step. Only to squeal and leap forward when her naked ass brushed against something soft and—

Butterfly.

“Kennedy?” Luke bolted from the room, his stare swinging wildly around her. “Where is he? Where—”

She jerked her stare from the fern frond behind her and shook her head. No, her whole body shook. She stared at him, knowing she was naked, knowing she was ridiculous, but incapable of doing anything but shake. If only she could—

“Umm, cousin?”

Luke spun to face the other man appearing at Kennedy’s suite door. “Did you find anything?”

The other man, a leaner version of Luke with dark hair instead of blond and blue eyes instead of brown, gave Kennedy a quick look. His eyebrows pulled together. “Not exactly.”

Kennedy’s belly rolled. She tried to step away, but Luke stopped her, one large, muscled arm snaking around her waist, his other covering her breasts. If she weren’t so sick with fear she’d be grateful. “What do you mean, not exactly? She didn’t just run out of her room naked for nothing.”

The other man flicked her a sorry look, his eyebrows knitting together some more. “Not for nothing, cousin.”

He lifted his arm. Kennedy cried out, fighting against Luke’s arms, squeezing her eyes shut. No. No, no, no. She had to get away. From the butterfly. From the—

“Steady, love,” the Brit said. “It’s just a towel.”

Kennedy opened her eyes and stared at the wide strip of fluffy white toweling in the man’s extended hand.

She let out a wobbly breath, reaching around Luke to take the towel. She gave the Brit a slow smile and wrapped the towel around her body. Her heart still thumped hard in her throat, her blood still roared in her ears, and her belly was still knotted so tightly she wanted to throw up. But somehow, with Luke holding her, his massive body just as hard and solid as it had been four months ago, maybe more so, she could hold her ground.

Just.

Luke’s fingers pressed beneath her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “Kennedy, what’s going on?”

Afternoon Rhapsody

This week I’ll be featuring a new series from Samhain, Bandicoot Cove: The Wedding, by three of my most favoritest (hee hee) people in the world. Interestingly enough, they all live in Australia. I really must visit that continent someday–it’s chocked full of fun folks. All of the books released yesterday, but they’re too good to try to squeeze in one day. So…I give you three days of fun in the sun and sexy books. What better way to say goodbye (sob) to summer? Today I’m featuring Jess Dee’s Afternoon Rhapsody.

Afternoon Rhapsody

A second chance at love is worth fighting for.

Bandicoot Cove: The Wedding, Book 1

Bianca Rogers is one signature away from finalizing her divorce. And she will finalize it just as soon as she gets home. But for this weekend, she’s putting her troubles aside and enjoying the gorgeous, sunlit luxury of Bandicoot Cove, the resort where her brother is getting married. The last thing she expects is to be knocked off her feet—literally—by gorgeous Brody Evans.

The fireworks are instantaneous. Brody is just her type: sexy, warm, friendly, and in the same boat as her: in the process of getting a divorce.

Spending time together is a mutual no-brainer. Attraction quickly grows to full-blown lust. But flying sparks come with increasingly personal conversations, and soon neither of them can ignore their past mistakes or the circumstances that have led them to the island.

Now it’s time to determine whether old hurts and sudden doubts will prevent love from leading them to a whole new happily ever after.

Product Warnings

If you don’t believe in second chances, never thought it was possible to fall in love again and aren’t interested in scrumptious, hot love scenes, then this story probably isn’t for you. You’d be missing out – big time – but yeah…it’s probably not for you.

EXCERPT:

“A pool?” He looked from her to the water and back again in disbelief. “This is your idea of exciting and stimulating?”

She grinned at him. “A cool dip on a hot day. Stimulating, for sure.”

He held up his hands in defeat and gave a soft snort. “Okay. I’ll admit it. You got me good with that one. A swim was the last thing on my mind.”

She gazed at him with wide-eyed innocence. “You thought I was referring to something else?”

He didn’t gaze back, exactly. No, she’d never describe the smoldering, sensual look he shot her as a gaze. Devastating, perhaps. A jumpstart to her libido, maybe, but not a gaze.

“Not thought. Hoped.”

“Brody…” Without realizing it, she’d placed her hand on his chest. Suddenly her palm was smoking, burning against his firm pecs and smooth skin.

Sheesh, what was it with her and touching him? She just couldn’t seem to help herself. But then his chest did feel incredible beneath her palm. Hot. Strong. Appealing.

So very, very appealing.

“Yeah?” He placed his hand over hers, holding it close to that warm, strong and appealing chest of his. His heart beat a steady rhythm beneath her hand, reminding her again of how alive she’d felt since barreling into him.

Bianca shook her head. “I have no idea what I wanted to say.” His eyes were so blue and so green and so beautiful, she found herself getting lost in them.

The air between them crackled. Well, not really, but it sure felt like it did to Bianca. Felt as if something electric zipped between them, from his chest into her hand. An awareness, a connection.

She liked the feeling. It heated her blood. Made her breasts perk up with interest and her belly flutter with anticipation.

It was Brody who broke the connection, but only to let his gaze wander away from her eyes, down past her neck and breasts…although it settled there for a few brief seconds before continuing on.

He might as well have run his hands over her skin, the way his gaze burned wherever it landed. It gave her both goose bumps and shivers at the same time, and she knew he’d see the telltale signs of her arousal in the millions of fine hairs standing to attention all the way down her arms.

What would he make of them?

His gaze landed on her left hip, and he did a double-take. “You have a tattoo?”

Bianca’s hand found it an instant after his gaze did. She yanked her fingers from his chest and traced them lightly over the stem of the tiny red rose, lying just below the strap of her bikini bottom.

“I do.”

She’d had it done a few months back, after she’d been living alone for a while. She’d wanted to do something crazy, impulsive. Something to show her life was changing, show she was moving on. She’d gone and done the last thing she’d ever have thought she’d do, the last thing Rick would ever have thought she’d do. “It’s new. I’m still not used to having it.”

Brody kept staring. “Is that a…bee on the petals?”

She smiled. “It is.” Her symbolic bee, with its wings spread while it stood steadily on the rose. Free to fly, yet happy to have found its feet in a safe place. “I was never into tattoos before, and the idea of getting one always scared the bejeepers out of me, but now that it’s there, well, I kinda like it.” She stroked the petals.

Brody’s face filled with appreciation. “I kinda like it too.”

“You do?” His expression made her mouth water.

He nodded. “It’s sexy.” His voice dropped about six tones. “Bloody sexy.” When he looked back into her eyes, his were the color of a polished aquamarine. They took her breath away. Or maybe the way he looked at her did. As though he’d like to get to know her tattoo a little better. A whole lot better. Quite intimately, in fact.

She couldn’t help it. She pictured him on his knees, his face by her hip, his mouth nuzzling the rose, tracing the outline of every petal.

“Brody.” His name was a whisper.

“Did it hurt?”

“What?”

“The tat. The needle.”

“A little.” More than that. But pain was not topmost on her mind right now. Desire was. Her belly was a swirling mass of lust. Wet heat pooled between her legs. More than anything she wanted Brody’s tongue on her hip. Wanted to feel the scrape of his beard against her bare skin as he explored the bee.

“I would have kissed it better.” Now his voice was a whisper.

“You still could.”

“It still hurts?”

“Oh, yeah,” she lied. “Heaps.”

He reached out, brushing his fingers over the tattoo, over her fingers. “I’d kiss it here.” He traced the lone leaf on the stem. “And here.” She almost shuddered in ecstasy as he drew his finger along the tiny stem. “And perhaps I’d lick it, just…here.” He stopped at the part were petals met stem.

“Y-you’d have to concentrate real hard. The rose is small. You m-might miss the spot.”

“I’d give it my full attention. I promise.” He stepped closer, caressed the bee and rose from top to bottom. And maybe caressed a little bit of her hip as well.

“It would…” She cleared her throat. “It would require your full attention.”

Desire, red-hot and lightning-quick flooded her body. It swept her away on a tide of passion, clouding her thoughts, fogging her brain. Brody stood so close his scent drifted through her nose, his aftershave sinfully seductive: mellow notes of the outdoors and subtle suggestions of man and musk. If she could bottle his scent she would. She’d keep it beside her bed to sniff at night. And in the morning. And perhaps once or twice during the day, as well.

Then she heard it. The booming, familiar laughter. The unmistakable sound of a man’s mirth, followed by a higher-pitched feminine chuckle.

Panic hit her full in the chest.